Here's to Many More
by Kelenloth
Summary: It's Christmas eve, and the Captain of the dunidian is alone this cold night. Short, sweet tale for Christmas. A Oneshot I might add to. Inspired by Relient K's "Merry Christmas, Here's to Many More"


Aragorn sighed heavily. A small cloud of white immediately formed before his mouth. The ranger pulled his large cloak closer around him as the small cloud dissipated. Another year. Another winter. And where had it gotten him? He looked to the dark sky. Nowhere. Absolutely no where. In fact, the year seemed to move him farther backward then forwards.

Hundreds of little white miracles danced around him; coating the ground with a fresh, beautiful, unbroken white blanket. The trees, most of which bore a load of dark green needles, each bore its own even heavier load of snow. Above, the dark sky shown with a million pricks of pure beauty. But Aragorn saw none of it this night.

Sighing again, he shrugged his coat and pack up on his shoulders once more. He turned to absently look over his shoulder. Nothing could be seen. Only his own lonely footprints in the fresh snow.

Trudging on, his head hung, and shoulders slumped. He sniffed slightly in the cold, as his weary eyelids lowered themselves over his tired eyes. It would be a very, very long night.

It wasn't that Aragorn had any number of miles he had go before the night was up. In fact, the problem was just the opposite. He had nowhere to go. Yet he trudged on.

It was just another night out. And the day had been just like any other. Day in, day out, nothing much changed. He was a ranger, and was out to protect the people. But even in a world filled with such evil that he had witnessed in his life, protecting could get awfully boring. And awfully lonely.

Last night, he had stopped by a small inn, somewhere between Bree and Rivendell. He had spent the night, but he found his welcome did not last long. It never seemed to any more. Even in a season such as this, people were growing more and more wary.

On any other night of the year, Aragorn would have felt perfectly fine out on his own. He could no longer count the nights he had spent like this, alone, and somewhere between the towns east of the Shire. And he was always content. But tonight was different.

As the ranger looked once more up to the sky, he sniffed again. A single tear of loneliness let itself spill down his red cheek. He did not bother to wipe it off.

Memories played in his head. All of them glad. Some of them truly the best times of his life. But they only served to deepen his sorrow.

Tonight was supposed to be a special night. A night of joy. Of celebration. But right now, Aragorn did not know if he could feel more lonely. It just didn't feel right. No one should be this alone.

Not on Christmas.

Turning his eyes to look forward once more, Aragorn found what he had been heading for. He had left the road long ago to follow and old ranger's trail. Now he had at last come to a stopping place in the path.

Ducking under the low, snow laden boughs of a large fir, he stepped into a small grove. The ground here peeked through the snow; the white blanket broken, and in fact scarcely found. In the middle of the dark, shadowed grove was the old remnants of a fire ring. And around that, several logs and other seats stood in a familiar circle. Empty.

A small pile of old, dead wood sat near by, and even the remains of a lean-to shelter. It would have been the perfect place to spend the night on any _other_ night of the year.

With a sigh, Aragorn dusted off one of the logs, and crashed down on it. His head fell into his hands, as his elbows rested on his knees. He could not recall the last time he had felt this lonely. It just wasn't right. Christmas should have been one of the most joyous days of the year. A day of celebration, and a day of rest. A day for family.

Aragorn looked up, though his fingers, once more at the camp around him. The dark fire pit lay barren, and the many seats around him empty. Another small tear fell down his cheek. It had been far, far to long since he had seen his family.

One of the saddest parts was how close he actually was. If he had his elven steed, or any of the strong, swift mounts of the elves, he might have been home by now. He did not know exactly how far away he was. But however close it might be, it was too far. Much to far to go this night, walking through the thick snow.

There was really nothing for it. He had no choice now; it was much to late to do anything else. But somehow, the raw emptiness of this night ate at Aragorn's heart. Somehow, he felt he could not bear to spend this cold night alone. No one to talk to. No one to share with. No one to laugh with. Not even anyone to cry with.

Closing his eyes once more, Aragorn's tired body was rebelling against him. His weary, slumped shoulders began to shake with soft sobs.

He didn't even know why he was crying anymore. It had jest been so very, very long since he had been able to cry. He had bottled all his grief up for so long. He had to be strong; he had to lead. He could not grieve over every life lost in the line of battle. He had no time to be sentimental. No time for himself. He gave all he was for his people. Even if they never gave anything back.

Aragorn had come to terms with this a long while back. But just because he was determined to do it, did not make it hurt any less. And tonight had set it all off. The great mountain of pain he had piled up over the last two years spent with the rangers finally released itself in an avalanche. Tears streamed down his face, as he longed even more for comfort this Christmas night.

A cold wind blew softly through the trees snowflakes danced through their branches, and caressed the dark locks of Aragorn's tussled hair. The forest was quite; interrupted only by Aragorn's faint sniffs and sobs. He could not hear the footsteps close behind him.

Aragorn paid no heed to the world around him now, until something finally touched him.

Aragorn stopped short. His eyes sprang open, and his breath caught; he inhaled sharply. His whole body froze for a moment. Even his heart.

For one of the longest moments of his life, there was nothing. No movement. The whole world stood still; frozen as if turned to ice. Save Aragorn's shoulder. Something touched him. Was still touching him. His shoulders stiffened in fear. But slowly, realization dawned. The touch was old, warm… Familiar.

_Estel…_ Aragorn could have sworn he heard. His heart skipped a beat. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

Aragorn slowly, cautiously rose his head to look upon whatever had touched him.

"A… Ada?" His breathed out; his voice cracked with tears. Was it possible?

Above him stood an unmistakable figure. A small, gentle smile caressed his face. His warm, comforting hand rested fondly on Aragorn's shoulder.

"Estel." Lord Elrond whispered again.

"Ada!" Aragorn called; his eyes widened, and his breath seemed stolen from him, as he stared in disbelief. Lord Elrond's smile broadened, as he knelt beside his son; immediately enveloping the boy in his warm arms.

"Merry Christmas, my son" He said warmly, as Aragorn hugged him fiercely.

"How did… ?!" Aragorn could not even finish his sentence. His tears spilled out, wetting the shoulder of Elrond's tunic, as Aragorn felt a huge wave of warmth wash over him. It felt so good to rest in his father's arms. The elven Lord stroked his hair fondly, and made the hug last; rocking back and forth slightly.

Aragorn's brow knotted momentarily as he heard a familiar scraping; followed by a small click. And then the sound of softly burning tinder. His father released him just as the golden glow of a small flame lit the little grove.

"How?" Aragorn could only continue to stare: mouth wide open, as he looked around the fire. Next to it, flint and blade in hand, sat Elrohir, feeding the small flame. And right behind him, Elladan and Legolas rested on logs much like his.

"Merry Christmas, Estel." Elrohir said with a warm smile.

Aragorn was at a loss for words, as Legolas came up to sit beside him. With a smile, the elf embraced him. "We couldn't leave you out here alone."

Tears spilled down Aragorn's cheeks once more. This time tears of joy. His twin brothers, in turn, also came to embrace him warmly.

"We love you, little brother!" Elladan said warmly.

"How did you…?" Aragorn was still in shock.

"We just know these things." Elladan answered with a smile. Legolas rolled his eyes.

"Actually, we met up with Halbarad yesterday. We were looking for you, and he sent us this way." He said.

"We miss you, Estel!" Elrohir added, hugging his brother once more.

Aragorn's eyes were filled deep with emotion. This was all like a dream come true. "I miss you too." He could barely get the whisper out, chocking back tears.

"You're not getting away from us this easily." Elrond said with a smile, as he sat himself next to his son; wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"Thank you." Aragorn's voice softened, as he rested his head against his father's shoulder. Two more tears flowed down, as he closed his eyes tightly, trying to take in the moment. For the first time in a long time. He felt at home. Even if he _was_ in the woods. He felt warm. He felt loved. He felt safe in his father's arms. It did not get any better than this.

Elrond simply smiled; resting his chin atop his youngest son's head fondly, as he too took in the moment. It had been far, far to long since he had held his little boy. Man. He corrected himself. No. No, Elrond did not care how old Aragorn was; by elven years, or human. He would always, _always_ be Estel.

Aragorn struggled to regain his composure, but having little success. As he pulled away from his father slightly, the elder elf gently wiped the tears from his eyes. He then pulled his youngest son close and kissed his brow. "I love you, Estel." He said soflty. "And rember…" He lifted his hand to lightly touch the silver broach that clasped the boy's cloak. "You are never alone."

Aragorn smiled, and pulled his father close once more, burying his tearstreakted face into the elf's tunic. His father smiled and hugged him once more.

"Estel." A soft voice came from behind the boy, accompanied by a warm hand laid on his shoulder.

Aragorn turned around, a thankful, strangely young looking smile on his face, to see his brothers: all three of them.

"Merry Christmas, Estel!" They said together, smiles all around. Legolas held out a large mug of warm goodness to the ranger, who took it happily. It was a drink made by the elves, only in this time of year. He did not know exactly what was in it, only that it was rich, sweet, and very, very warm. The creamy, brown liquid had been a favorite of his since he was a small child.

The elves around him all took their own glasses, as Lord Elrond raised his in a toast.

"To family." He said. "To the sons of my heart." He looked at each of the young elves around him, and the human beside him. "All four of them." He smiled. "Merry Christmas." He finished. "Here's to many more."

The small gathering of friend's shared in broad smiles, as they together drank to family, Christmas, and to many, many more.


End file.
